The Domestic Stuff
by jeszalyn
Summary: Ten/Rose All-Human AU: Bits of a life as they grow up together. One-Shot.


A/N: Geesh. I haven't posted fanfiction in years, so please forgive any errors/crappy bits along the way.

* * *

She's six and the stars are diamonds and holes in the sky. They shine on a night when the moon isn't full, and she knows she will touch them when she finds a mountain high enough.

He's eight and knows the stars are full of hydrogen, molecules racing at the center and creating a heat that hurtles light across space and time. He wants to find a way to reach them, and imagines a blue box that can travel anywhere in the universe, getting him to the stars before they expand and die.

They both lie on the damp grass on a Tuesday night, heads touching as they point upwards and talk about their adventures in a magical blue box.

* * *

She's eight and finds a sinkhole nearby. It opens up a tunnel and she grabs his hand, pulling him down to play dragons and shove mud down his shirt. Down here they're in another world, a world away from Dad's funeral and crying Mums, and if she closes her eyes tight enough, that world can disappear.

He's ten and sees a biological treasure trove in the clumps of mud and grass. His eyes focus on centipedes crawling their way back into the damp earth, measuring ligaments and counting legs through a newly-bought microscope. Like the stars, he wishes he could shrink and walk among the worms and bugs, his mind immediately building a shrink-ray with his Gramp's tools.

They both sink their hands deep into the earth on a Saturday afternoon, grins wide and eyes bright.

* * *

She's ten and can finally stay up on New Year's Eve. Reds, whites, and greens blast overhead, and she's smiling her tongue-cheeked smile. She takes a deep breath and breathes in firework smoke and imagines she's in Times Square, counting down and kissing at midnight.

He's twelve and thought he'd be miserable standing here on the roof with his parents nearby and all his friends out in the city. He's trying to keep his mind on the fireworks, trying to figure out how to make them bigger, louder, and brighter later on. But he can't focus. He wants to roll his eyes at his younger neighbor's excitement. This is, after all, his fourth time up on the roof for New Year's Eve. Instead he finds himself smiling with her, her eyes lighting up with the sky.

* * *

She's fourteen and she hates French foreign exchange students. Well, not all of them, just blonde ones name Reinette who wear designer clothes and speak in sophisticated, sexy French accents. Just the Reinettes who, despite everything, are kind and smart and spend far too much time with her cute, older neighbor.

He's sixteen and his mind is full of this one girl. He forgets things like homework, scholarships, and stars. He'll be fine in the end, he's brilliant after all, and it's so worth it for just one more snog behind the estate's playground.

They all go to a concert together, and she's stuck waiting outside the stadium for five and a half hours when she loses track of them. He and Reinette find her sitting on the curb, mascara running and cheeks a bright red. He forgot her, too, but seeing her there, he remembers, and he tries not to wince when she refuses his hand to help her up.

* * *

She's eighteen and she's run off. His name is Jimmy, and he's wonderful, no matter what her mum says. She drops out of school and doesn't care. She never thought she was all that smart, not when her neighbor is a certified genius, so she gets a job at a shop and waits for Jimmy to become a rock star. This will all be worth it, she thinks, watching Jimmy pass out drunk on the couch. Just be patient.

He's twenty and has already published a few different papers in distinguished scientific magazines. He's being eyed by several different graduate schools, both in the UK and the States, garnering attention from the greats as he comes out with theory after theory. His life is both bright and empty.

They haven't seen each other in couple of years. His mum told him about her taking off, and he finds himself worrying. He comes across her in a shop getting yelled at by an older woman whose face is stretched tight and thin, complaining about the selection of cardigans. He sees her bite her tongue and can't help but notice how tired she looks. He finds himself walking towards her, the brightly dressed mannequins becoming a blur around him, and suddenly he's by her side and grabbing her hand. "Run," he says, smiling and pulling her out the door.

* * *

She's twenty-two, back in school, and is waiting for something to happen. She's sitting in his new office and grins as he runs around the deceptively-small space, putting up prints and knick-knacks to make it "homey". She has fifteen minutes until her class, and she's not sure why, but she can't go until _something_ happens. With him. Now. It's like she can see all of time and space spiraling out from this one point in his office, and this is it. This is the moment. Her eyes glow with this knowledge.

He's completely oblivious to this, of course. He's ecstatic about his new position and his new office that looks bigger on the inside than the outside, and he's going on and on about the windows and angles of the room when he remembers a night on a hill, looking at the stars with the same girl who's sitting on his desk. He looks at her now and sees her, all pink and yellow. The fluorescent lights fall on her and she's practically radiating.

They stare at each other for a few brief seconds. Then his hands are in her hair and hers are in his lapels and lips are smashed together in a messy, amazing kiss. She feels his arms go around her, and he feels her hands move up to his shoulders as they snog the life out of each other. Air becomes an issue and the two slowly pull away. Nervous, she looks up and smiles a tongue-cheeked smile, the same one he saw on a New Year's Eve many years ago. It's not midnight now, but he leans back in anyway, and they both decide that this needs to be a daily activity. Preferably for the rest of their lives.

* * *

She's thirty and the stars are impossibly far away, but they still shine and make their way to her.

He's thirty-two and he still knows about stars and their burning centers, so he aims his telescope upwards and guides a small head to look through its lens.

The three of them sit on a hill, far outside of London, with her hand in his as he shows their daughter the night sky. He no longer wishes for a blue box to take him away, not when his whole universe is sitting right here.


End file.
